Happy Freakin New Year

My year in review:

January - ended relationship with religious fanatic
February - saw a violinist for a while
March - found out I was going to Israel
April - not applicable
May - went to Israel
June - almost died in Israel
July - decided to get a new job
August - quit my job
September - started my new job
October - met another guy
November - had a boyfriend take me to dinner for my birthday for the first time ever
December - broke up with said boyfriend and started baking bread -> see new blog: colorandcrisp.blogspot.com

January 2017? Maybe I'll pick up writing my novel(s) again. I think 2017 is going to be about doing what I enjoy much more often. Meanwhile, while I type, I hear a rather not faint at all tink tink of my dog's collar. It's rather distracting.

Crisp and Color

I caved and bought a few Craftsy classes this past week. I've had this idea about Craftsy, that it's a thing for people looking for things to do that they have zero to amateurish knowledge of to begin with. Judgmental? Yes, I'm aware. Anyhoo, I bought a bread baking course with Peter Reinhart, and from noon till five yesterday, I was making dough for the most part, and then baking it. Peter talks about the 12 step baking bread process, and describes bread making as metaphor; life and death. Activating the yeast, essentially bringing it to life, and let's be honest, what do I know about yeast in the first place. I thought it might be an animal with how he described it. I googled it. Yeast is classified as a fungi, so it's not an animal. *sigh of relief*



You, being reader, may not know, but I went off the deep end, I mean vegan/vegetarian back in March 2016. For those that are looking for an argument, go elsewhere. I'm not about to peg myself into a figurative hole and give up Triple Creme Brie for the rest of my life, or give up honey, or if I want a freakin' egg with my Brie once in a blue moon, or give up my leather and bags. It's diet only, and I don't pretend otherwise. Although, I could get used to not shaving body hair as it is practically winter...

So, as I was saying, I made and baked bread. I ended up with three French baguettes and a baby boule, which I don't have the heart to pierce and slice, decapitating  it's cute little button frame, yet. What am I saying; I can't wait. Especially with some vegan butter, it's going to be delicious. Just as the French bread was supposed to turn out, each loaf had great crisp and color. They even had some larger(er), irregular holes as artisan bread is supposed to have. There was a certain high to the day, in part due to the fact that I was doing something I enjoy. To be frank, I find there's a certain serenity in baking and cooking, which I don't find elsewhere. Getting my fat ass out of bed at 7AM, an ungodly hour, five days a week is a constant challenge. Corporate work feels like work, and ultimately, it's boring. It's not that I don't have work to do, it's that it's not "fun." At least for my brain anyway.

Take for today as example. It's cold and dreary and my pants are not as loose as they once were--like last week. I'd rather be stretching and folding dough, in my horrid Roots Canada sweatpants, than be sitting in a grey cube. *existential moment: how did I end up here* Did I mention I recently turned 25?

Life as it is seems

Reality is perceived, and solely by the mind. I was wondering if we literally live multiple lives through one physical medium. I know for myself, I can get caught up in ruminating thought which affects me physiologically. Often I wonder if imagination is just a secondary, or tertiary, or whatever level, life plane in/on which we live. It's like the end of The Magic Mountain. Did he even go to the sanitarium or while he was lying, dying, on the war field, did he escape into his mind and live another seven years? Was he living at all in the physical world? When we sleep, who is to say that we are just dreaming and not living? Sometimes I think we may be most self authentic in dream, because the physical world allows for serious physical consequence and constraints. With that said, is living living? I've found I am happier when I'm in my mind, on occasion. There's a sense that we have the ability to travel in time through the mind, and are trapped in the present, cut off from loved ones "stuck" in the past. Is death freedom from this constraint? There is much loneliness and nostalgia for what was, and in the mind we have complete and individual control over everything: the past, the present, the future. In this physical world, we have no control, and the little control we perceive ourselves to have, may be an illusion as well. Maybe everything has been written, and we are living out our narratives as one reads a novel, line by line, page by page, etc. There are books and people that say we are responsible for our thoughts, and thoughts are often said to be one behavior that an individual has total control over. But do we? How is it that I'll be going about my day and a thought pops up into my mind, seemingly from nowhere? Why do I hear the ticking of my grandfather's clock in my left ear when I meditate and am solely focusing on my breathing? Why is it that I'll be driving to work, belting out a song and suddenly, I experience fear and irrationality from, again, nowhere? 

From meditation I've learned I am responsible for giving power and emotion to memory, i.e., reliving events and being present in that past moment, for memory is just a mental picture. For those that experience and feel the way I do, about ideas I've presented in this post, does that mean that we all have post traumatic stress disorder (if you want to put a label on it)? Is it a fact of life? Our first experience coming into life is traumatic, hence a newborn's cry. It seems to me that we are mere automata, life breathing (whatever that means...), but that we are brought into the physical world experiencing fear and it is fear (the most primitive form of change) that propels us through life. Fear, in a sense, is life in the physical world. So what would it be or to mean to live freely?